"The Advocate is travelling straight to Spain," he said to Count Cuylenborg.
"But we will see who has got the longest purse." And as if it had been a part of the campaign, a prearranged diversion to the more direct and general assault on the entrenchments of the States' right party, a horrible personal onslaught was now made from many quarters upon the Advocate.

It was an age of pamphleteering, of venomous, virulent, unscrupulous libels.

And never even in that age had there been anything to equal the savage attacks upon this great statesman.

It moves the gall of an honest man, even after the lapse of two centuries and a half, to turn over those long forgotten pages and mark the depths to which political and theological party spirit could descend.

That human creatures can assimilate themselves so closely to the reptile, and to the subtle devil within the reptile, when a party end is to be gained is enough to make the very name of man a term of reproach.
Day by day appeared pamphlets, each one more poisonous than its predecessor.